


Barmaid (temporary title)

by IridescentIsabelle



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27576074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IridescentIsabelle/pseuds/IridescentIsabelle
Summary: A servant flees her estate and ends up at a poorly running tavern. In exchange for food and shelter, she works there for a chance at a better life. For the first time ever, she's free to do whatever she wishes with whoever she wishes. Happy patrons pay much better, after all.(This is smut, no way around it. Have fun and let me know what you think)
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s)





	Barmaid (temporary title)

**Chapter 1:**

It was a dark and stormy night. The kind of dark storms that were only good for two things: staying safely indoors, or change. For one woman, it meant the latter. The sound of the howling wind masked the creaking of the stable doors and the nervous nickering of the black horse she saddled. The endless rain prevented anyone from seeing her creep away from the large town with a stolen horse. The occasional lightning was enough light for the escapee to climb on the horse and leave everything behind.

As she rides and the lights of the town behind her grow dim until she cannot make them out anymore through the rain, she reflects on what she’s left behind. She did not bring any clothing but the threadbare dress she currently wore. She had no food with her, but she did have this horse. With some luck, she would be able to sell it for a decent price. She could no longer think of her neighbours that had been so kind to her, nor the relatives she lived with. It would be best if she never used her old name as well. 

The storm showed no sign of stopping when she came across a small inn. She had no idea where she was or in which direction she had headed, which suited her fine. The horse, however, did not seem like it could continue on for much longer. So, she descended from the horse and led it by the reins into the stables. Only a very small box in the very back was still available. All the other boxes were occupied. As she walked by them, over a neatly brushed flagstone floor, she marvelled at the health of these horses, unlike her own which seemed old and beaten in comparison. Still, she felt compassion with the horse she had picked simply for the colour of its coat. She, too, felt old and beaten.

In the small box in the back of the stable, she took some time to rub her horse dry with a blanket she ‘borrowed’ from someone else. The original owner was unknown to her, but she did return it when her horse was dry. Food and water for the horses was available in abundance and as her black steed recovered, she brushed it down and then sat in the stall next to it. Her dress was streaked with black horsehair and stuck against her body. Still, she didn’t care much. She rested her head against the wooden wall and fell into an uneasy sleep.

In her dreams, she was back home. Her owner had smacked her across her face for spilling some wine. To some of his guests, he laughed about how useless his servants became when they got older. Angry tears welled in her eyes as she retreated from the room, quiet as a mouse. As she left, a new girl was brought in by some faceless guard. She was never allowed to check if they did actually possess a face. The girl looked so young, no older than 16. She saw the fear in the girl’s eyes but could offer no comfort. 

The woman woke from a loud thump. Years of experience made her shoot up from her sleeping position to a safer point against the far end of the horsebox. A stablemaster stood at the door, shouting at her in a tongue she did not know. He was a tall, burly man, quite possibly a half-giant. His hands were larger than her head. When he realised she did not understand him, he opened the box and pulled the horse out, determined to get rid of the beggarwoman and her skinny horse. Outside, the sun was shining uncertainly. The grasslands were littered with puddles in which the blue sky reflected brilliantly. More time to admire it did not exist as the huge man lifted her up by her waist, put her on the horse and slapped it on the rump to make it run again. He made an obscene motion that likely meant something like ‘be gone with you!’

The woman and the horse roamed for days, eating what they could find and sleeping whenever they found a safe enough spot. Nearly a week has passed since her escape and no knights were to be seen, searching for her. It was a good sign. On the sixth day, a new house came into view. Another inn, it seemed like it, but one far less visited. The garden wasn’t as perfectly kept, and the building itself needed some repairs. 

Suddenly, with a shriek, the horse sank through its knees and collapsed. It laid on its side and refused to budge, no matter how much the woman begged it to. Tears sprang to her eyes. She had come to care for the horse and its refusal to keep going broke her heart. Gently, she kissed it on the nose and went on without it. 

Her gait was kind of hobbly after so many days in the saddle, untrained for long horseback rides. Carefully, she opened the door to the inn. No patrons were to be seen. Some noise could be heard in the direction of the kitchen, so that’s where she went. There, she found an older lady, around the age of 50, peeling apples and tossing the parts in a large pan that smelled wonderfully like apple sauce. Her stomach, prompted by the promise of food, made a large growl.

The woman noticed her and shrieked, reaching for her rolling pin. Desperate, the escapee fell to her knees, raising her hands above her head. 

“Please, madame. Have mercy. I seek food and shelter. I can work for it, if you would have me. I’d do anything!” 

The older woman regarded her with a little suspicion. “What’s your name, love?” The voice was not unkind. 

The kneeling woman shook her head. “I have no name anymore.”

The matron sighed and put away her rolling pin. “I see. Come with me. You stink.” She let the woman around the back, where a bathing room had been built. “Take those off,” she ordered, gesturing to the rags the trembling woman still wore. Without complaint, she undid the laces and let the thin fabric fall. As the matron circled her, taking in the state of the woman, she spoke. “Your name is Mina. You work for me. I am not the youngest anymore, and I need a help. You will call me Madame. Am I understood?” 

Mina nodded her head and murmured she did. The matron gestured Mina to sit in the tub as she filled it with cold water. The silence was heavy. Mina’s body revealed what had happened to her. The whip scars on her back, too deliberate to have been done by law enforcement, spoke of a master. The skinniness of her body spoke of years of malnourishment. The blisters on her legs and hands spoke of a long and rough ride to get here. This woman had been through a lot. With some purpose, safety, good food, and a clean bed, she would hopefully become the woman she had once been before she became the property of her previous owner.

Silently but thoroughly, the tavern’s owner scrubbed the filth off Mina’s body. Neither of them spoke a word. Mina’s hair, so dark and full, had to be cut off. It had clumped together by filth and improper care. It would grow back. 

Scrubbed pink and clean, with her hair closely cut to her scalp. Mina was given a rough tunic to wear. In the kitchen, she warmed herself by the heat of the stove as she ate the first good meal in many months: mashed potatoes with a little clump of butter, a fatty steak and garden vegetables. Then Mina was guided to the attic, where a straw bed stood among unused furniture. “This is your room,” the matron said. “Do with it as you wish. I expect to see you tomorrow morning, on time for breakfast.” 

“Yes Madame,” 

A gust of wind rushed past Mina’s chilled skin, causing an involuntary shudder. The door closed behind her as the madame took her leave. Her limbs felt heavy with exhaustion and muscle ache. Carefully, she knelt and crawled into bed. The wool was roughly spun but would keep her warm during the night. As soon as her head hit the lumpy pillow, she fell into a dreamless sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think. The fun starts next chapter but I hoped to get a bit of feedback before committing to this backstory.


End file.
